Strange Feelings
by Severed Faith
Summary: A tale of love, betrayal, hatred, anguish, and secrets.....
1. Default Chapter

Prologue  
  
You slowly sit down across from me, your fake leather chair groaning and creaking from your weight. No wonder, I think, you look as if you could use a good run or two. Your hips are fleshy and covered with a fine, blubbery coat. Your arms have enough excess skin and fat to keep five people happy. Let's not even mention your double chin and short, pudgy fingers. You smile at me, though it doesn't seem that way. It looks like someone is stretching your face out from behind. Deep crow's feet form at the corners of your eyes and the bags of fat beneath your eyes grow even more swollen. I can't help but wince, though you don't notice.  
  
"Hello, Anna," You say. Your voice is a deep, sultry baritone. For some reason, the image of you bellowing your guts out amid a huge crowd in some amphitheatre flits across my mind. I can't help but smirk, and you take this as an answering smile to the sick stretching of your lips. "Your parents tell me you're finally ready to talk," You pause here, for emphasis. "About everything."  
  
My only answer is a minute nod of my head, my eyes now averted to the sick brown carpet beneath my feet. It reminds me in an odd way of the human waste. I wrinkle my nose in disgust; though still do not look at you. I'd rather eat raw frog legs than be forced to watch your blubbery double chin jiggle like Jell-O.  
  
"Well then, why don't you start from the beginning?" My eyes finally leave the floor to gaze into your puffy face, studying you for a moment. After a few, long seconds pass, I begin to speak. At first, I don't realize I'm speaking; the words just begin to pour from my mouth. But after a few sentences I begin to form my phrases and syllables carefully, thinking about what I'm going to say even before I say it. After I start, I find that no matter how hard I try, I can't stop. 


	2. Strange Feelings Chapter One

Chapter One  
  
You know that strange feeling that some people get right before something bad is about to happen? Well, that was the feeling I woke up with that bright, Monday morning. I was shivering and covered in cold sweat from the nightmare that had awakened me. I remember frowning as I tried to remember. After a few seconds, it slowly began to come back to me.  
  
I was running swiftly through the forest, my heart pounding, my breaths coming in short, painful gasps. My calves were burning, but I forced my legs to move. Left, right, left, right, left, right. Something was propelling me forward, a strange feeling that something was very wrong. As I rounded a bend in the path I was traveling upon so swiftly, I halted in my tracks, staring straight ahead at a large clearing. Among the foliage and tall grasses there lay something blue and white. I strained forward, but my feet wouldn't work anymore for some reason. I tried, in vain, to focus my eyes upon the object, but it was impossible. A sudden movement at the edge of the clearing caused me to tear my eyes away from the object and squint at the clearing's perimeter. My eyes widened as the blurry form of a human being turned away from the clearing and fled, carrying something heavy in his or her hands.  
  
I think it was about that point that I woke up, covered, as I said, in cold sweat and trembling violently. I took a deep breath and forced my nerves to calm down and stop their buzzing. There was an odd ringing in my ears and I couldn't help but think that there was something I should be doing about the dream.  
  
You stop me at this point in my story, your brows knitted together and a confused expression upon your pig-like face.  
  
"What exactly did you think you had to do?" You ask, tilting your large, round head to the side. I feel exasperation well up inside of me. I was about to get to that point. Shrinks. I shake my head, then reply, my tone flat.  
  
"I was getting to that part." My voice tells you to shut your fat mouth and listen. You obey, your beady little eyes narrowing slightly as you listen intently.  
  
As I was saying, I felt as if I should be doing something about the dream. What, I didn't know. Instead of subsiding, as I thought it would, the feeling inside of me intensified, causing my heart to beat dangerously fast. I took another deep breath and slid off the bed, trudging to my bathroom and gazing at myself in the mirror. A pale looking young teen looked back at me, her hazel eyes slightly dilated with fear and confusion. Lengthy chestnut hair fell to her shoulders, and dark freckles deeply contrasted with her pale skin. There were dark bags under eyes. I hardly recognized myself.  
  
I must have zoned out, standing there, staring at myself in the mirror, for I suddenly heard footsteps at the doorway to the bathroom, then my father was leaning into the bathroom. "You okay, sis?" he asked me, his dark eyes glittering with worry. I blinked several times and turned to look at him. It took a moment for his words to register, but I nodded my head and finally answered.  
  
"Yeah," I said, frowning slightly. "I guess I just zoned out."  
  
"Okay," he replied, his brows knitted together. "Well, hurry up and get ready, you're barely going to have time to eat breakfast. The bus gets here in fifteen minutes." With an unsure smile he turned and disappeared, the sound of his feet thumping down the stairs reaching my ears.  
  
Taking a deep breath, I turned on the cold water and cupped my hands, then splashed my face. I felt myself gradually becoming more alert and aware. I no longer felt sluggish and unsure. The strange feeling that had been throbbing in my chest had subsided some, though it was still there, threatening to break through the surface. Shrugging at myself in the mirror, I turned and hurried into my room to get ready.  
  
It takes me a moment to realize that I stopped speaking. When you clear your throat I blink and look up at you. Your expression is expectant as you study me carefully, waiting for me to continue. When I don't, you open your flabby mouth to speak then decide against it.  
  
After a few more moments of silence, you finally say, "Go ahead. Tell me the rest. It's okay." I gaze into your beady little eyes for a few seconds then avert my gaze back to the muddy brown carpet. After another long minute, I take a deep breath and begin again. My voice is wavering slightly at first, gradually growing stronger as I grow more sure of myself.  
  
That day, Heather didn't show up at school. Normally I wouldn't have been worried, I would have dismissed it as her being sick, and would have made a mental note to call her when school was over. Instead, I felt that same, strange feeling well up inside of my chest. It really scared me. Mainly because I had felt the same way before my mother was killed in that skiing accident in Colorado. Plus, Heather never missed school, literally. Her attendance record was perfect, spotless. She was always the person who got the 'Perfect Attendance Award' at the end of the school year, along with about ten other awards.  
  
Sari must have sensed my worry as we walked towards our lockers because she put an arm around my shoulders. Her eyes were dark with worry as well. I think she was just as worried as I was. I guess it's true when they say that when I person is feeling a certain emotion very strongly, it's contagious. I took a deep, shaky breath and smiled for Sari's sake. She smiled back, though her smile did not brighten her blue-gray eyes like it normally did. We both reached our lockers and opened them in silence. We did not speak as we took off our coats and backpacks, then grabbed our books for the morning and slammed the locker doors shut. We were still silent as we made our way to homeroom, which was eerily quiet. I think everyone must have sensed the tension that was crawling around the hallways. Not just because Heather was not there or course, there had been many other things happening, like that kid, Bobby, who shot himself because his girlfriend broke up with him. Things like that...but still, it didn't help my mood any.  
  
By the time lunch came around, I knew something was definitely wrong. I felt nauseated and my chest was in knots. I was shaky and could barely hold a pencil let alone a lunch tray. Sari had been looking at me strangely all day. Once she had opened her mouth as if to ask me a question, but decided against it. A good thing too, because I don't know that I would have had the strength to answer. At lunch, as we sat down to eat, I just picked at my food. If I would have eaten anything I'm sure I would have thrown up. Sari could sense my discomfort and she knew that I was extremely worried about something. She was very empathic when it came to her friends. Sometimes that was a good thing, in fact, it was a good thing almost all the time...but then again, other times it was not. Even though she said nothing, Sari's gaze was inquiring, filled with concern. On the outside I just seemed insecure, maybe even a little bit worried. On the inside, however, my emotions were in turmoil. I was scared to death that something had happened. What, I didn't know. The feeling was familiar, and it terrified me even more to know I had felt this way just before my mother had been killed.  
  
When the day finally ended and I was dropped off at the beginning of my street, I rushed off the bus. I didn't even turn and answer when Sari called my name, I just ran home as quickly as I could. I heard her hurried footsteps behind me and knew that she would follow me home, but I didn't care. All I wanted to do was rush into the house, call Heather, find that she was okay, and laugh at myself for being so irrational. I could even picture myself telling Heather and Sari about it later and laughing with them over it.  
  
As a rushed in the door I heard it slam, then open again as Sari followed me into the house. "What on Earth is the matter with you?" she demanded. I ignored her, grabbing the phone of the hook and dialing Heather's number.  
  
"Hello, Bair residence," came the rich, haughty voice of Mr. Bair.  
  
"Hey, this is Evie. Is Heather there?" I said, subconsciously using my childhood nickname. I saw Sari roll her eyes in exasperation and look at me as if asking, 'Is this what this is all about?'  
  
"Um..no," came the hesitant reply. "I don't think the bus has gotten here yet."  
  
"She wasn't at school," I replied, shooting Sari a triumphant glare. Sari's eyes grew wide as she waited, literally holding her breath.  
  
"Are you sure she wasn't at school?" Mr. Bair sounded confused and concerned. "She had to be. She even left early this morning to walk to school, said something about Jazz Band."  
  
"No, she wasn't there," I insisted, then quickly added, for Mr. Bair's sake, "She may have gone up to our hideout up in the woods. Sari and I will go look for her." Mr. Bair thanked me then hung up, sounding worried. I turned to Sari, her expression mirroring mine. If Sari wasn't at school, and she wasn't at home, and she ended up not being at the Hideout....where was she?  
  
You raise your hand to stop me, your eyes holding a slightly distant expression, as if you were still taking everything in. I watch you, expecting you to say something. Sure enough, your lips part to release your masculine voice.  
  
"So, you're saying that Mr. Bair didn't act worried except for his tone of voice?" You tilt your head, eyeing me suspiciously. "That doesn't sound right, it was his daughter that had gone missing after all."  
  
I take a deep breath before replying. Do you have any idea how annoying it is when you won't just let me finish? One of these times you're going to stop me and I'll never start back up. "Heather and her father were never very close. Like I said, he sounded worried and hesitant. If you would have let me finish, your question would have been answered." I stare at you, my expression deliberately cold. You take this as your signal to shut up and listen. 


End file.
